


Playing With Fire

by ninawritesastory



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Families of Choice, Gratuitous Child Murder, Multi, NaNoWriMo 2018, Poor Life Choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 08:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16489151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninawritesastory/pseuds/ninawritesastory
Summary: It wasn't as though Keith had many plans for his life beyond his last Reaping Day. If anything, he'd probably end up dying in the mines. But when his name is called, Keith instead finds himself forced into an Arena where it's kill or be killed. As events unfold, Keith is faced with a series of difficult choices that threaten to destroy him.





	Playing With Fire

**Author's Note:**

> After spending the entire year more or less on my butt thanks to a truly spectacular back injury, I'm back! And in order to get myself back into a regular writing habit, have this NaNoWriMo entry! I've watched these movies way too many times over the past ten months, so I decided to go for it. 
> 
> The plot is going to be similar to the books/movies for the first few chapters or so, but due to the characters here things are going to skive off in a different direction soon.

There was a certain peace to the woods, particularly in the early morning. Keith could hear crows cawing in the distance, the rustling of leaves as a soft breeze blew through. It had rained the night before, the forest floor damp and steaming from the temperature difference. Everything just felt… _still_. Like there wasn’t anything more important than just existing.

_Lucky fucks_ , Keith thought, adjusting his hold on one of his throwing knives as he spotted a set of tracks. Hoof prints, a deer. A big one, even. He grinned in spite of himself; first sign of a deer he’d seen in a year? Maybe the odds were in his favor today. There would be enough meat on that deer to feed him, Romelle, and their wolf for months, payback Shay’s family, and still leave some to sell to the Peacekeepers for extra rations without having to risk putting his name in more times.

He crept along the ground, keeping an eye on the tracks and trying to catch sight of the animal. It had to be nearby, those tracks were much too fresh for it to be any more than a quarter mile away. There was a rustle of leaves that was much stronger than what the wind had been doing.

_Bingo._ He grabbed a small rock, searching over the area the noise had come from, and aimed. The rock hit a tree trunk, a solid thunk that startled his prey out of its hiding spot in the foliage. It was _massive_. Even bigger than Keith had expected. It was a buck, maybe closing in on its third year. If he weren’t so excited, maybe Keith would’ve been a little miffed that it had been roaming the forest for damn near three years without ever once crossing his path. But, then again, if it had, Keith would be about to bring down his biggest catch since that beaver six months ago.

He had a clear shot, the buck standing in a clearing and having apparently decided it was safe enough to chow down on some foliage. Keith crouched into position, carefully aiming his knife in order to ensure a one-hit knock-out. If he didn’t hit it just right, the buck could get away with its life _and_ one of Keith’s throwing knives.

“What are you gonna do with that when you kill it?”

The buck startled and took off, Keith desperately flinging his knife in an effort to catch it. He missed, in spectacular fashion and groaned.

“Damn you, Griffin,” he snapped.

“Keith, that was a 100-pound deer. At _minimum_ ,” James Griffin pointed out, making his way down to where Keith had been perched. “What the hell were you gonna do with it anyway?”

“I was gonna sell it,” Keith retorted. “To some Peacekeepers.”

“Yeah right.”

“Like you don’t sell to Peacekeepers.”

“Not on Reaping Day,” James shot back. “Are you crazy? This is the one day of the year were they actually give a shit about appearances.”

“Never said I was gonna sell it today,” Keith pointed out. “I’m not that stupid. I was gonna split it. Some for me and Romelle, some to payback the Balmeras, and the rest to sell for extra rations. Now I’ve got nothing.”

James picked up a rock and tossed it a few times with a grin. “How ‘bout we change that?”

It’s close to mid-morning when they finally call it quits. A few birds, some rabbits, and at least a dozen squirrels: a fairly standard hunt. There was even a decent sized snake Keith had accidentally hit when he was aiming for the same hare it was after. Not the most game they’d ever caught at a time, but far from the least. The meat could probably last him and Romelle a couple of weeks, maybe more if Keith didn’t sell any to the Peacekeepers. Having his wolf along would help with catching bigger game, but there were too many risks to undertake in sneaking him out of the house.

“We should probably milk out the venom,” James pointed out, stringing his share together. “Shay’s grandpa would appreciate it.”

Shay’s grandfather was the only doctor in town; he wasn’t even officially trained, instead having learned everything he knew about healing and the body from his mother and grandmother. But still, a doctor was a doctor, and snake venom had plenty of uses.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. “I’ll do it when I get home. It’s still a couple hours until we have to be in the square.”

“Last year,” James breathed. “After today, we’re free.”

“Yeah, free to go choke to death in the mines.”

“Maybe we should just take off, then,” he suggested instead. “Make a break for it, live in the woods. It’s what we do, anyway.”

“They’d catch us,” Keith pointed out. “Best case scenario? They cut out our tongues and we spend the rest of our lives as Avoxes. I can’t do that to Romelle. Or Shay.”

“We could make it. We know the woods better than they do.”

“We wouldn’t make it five miles.”

James snorted. “No, I’d make it five miles. I’d head north.”

“You don’t know what’s out there.”

“Can’t be any worse than what’s here. A couple decades in the mines before the dust finally kills me, any kids I have I’ll have to send off to the Reaping.”

“I’m never having kids.”

James shrugged. “I might. If I found a decent alpha.”

“Remember what Shay’s grandpa said? You try and it may be the last thing you ever do.”

“Maybe I should volunteer at the Reaping then. I’m sure the Capitol would love to make sure I could have kids.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Keith snapped. “Volunteering is a death sentence. Those assholes from 1, 2, and 4 would kill you in the first ten minutes.”

“Not all of 4’s Tributes are bloodthirsty Careers,” James reminded him, digging something out of his bag. He held out a bread roll. “Here.”

“Oh my god, is this real,” Keith asked, their argument set aside as he broke it open to smell it.

“Better be. Cost me two squirrels.”

The scent of warm yeast filled his nose and Keith took a chunk out of it. It was soft and chewy, completely devoid of the dry sawdust sometimes used to make more loaves when flour was short. The last time Keith had actual bread, he’d been eleven years old and stole one out of desperation. Romelle had been sick, Shiro had been forced to accompany the latest Tributes as a mentor, and food was scarce enough at the Balmeras’.

The baker had whipped his ass good the next day, but it hadn’t mattered. Romelle had gone to sleep with a full belly for the first time in weeks and her fever broke that morning. Shiro had been disappointed, of course, but at least he understood.

“Happy Hunger Games,” James muttered, taking a bite out of his own roll.

“How many times is your name in there?”

“Forty-two. You?”

“Fifty-three.”

“How the fuck---”

“Misunderstanding with a Peacekeeper,” Keith admitted. “He didn’t like my attitude. It was that or something worse. You can only die once, right? At least this way there’s still a chance I’ll make it. Didn’t want Romelle or Shay to know, so I took the extra entries.”

James sighed, sinking into the grass. “You’re gonna make me gray before my time, Kogane. No wonder Shirogane’s already going silver at twenty-six.”

Keith didn’t respond, not that James really expected him to. The situation between Keith and Shiro was a well-known bit of gossip in town: most people were convinced Shiro was Keith’s actual brother, since Shiro did share certain traits with Keith’s dad. Shiro had been reaped the year Keith turned ten, and while he’d made it home alive, he’d never quite been the same. Then Mr. Kogane died in a mining accident two weeks before Keith’s tenth birthday, and Shiro had taken Keith and Romelle in. By the time Keith was fifteen, the years had started to take their toll. No one really knew what exactly happened that led to Keith and Romelle leaving the Victor’s Village to live in their father’s beaten down old shack, but it had been the closest thing to a scandal District 12 had ever seen.

“We should get back,” Keith muttered instead.

District 12 was a tiny backwater with only one actual town. There were a couple of other settlements that serviced other mines, but none of them boasted more than a couple hundred residents. Everyone had to come into town for supplies and the Reaping, anyway.

Keith carried his haul through the backstreets, avoiding the main road as much as possible. Normally the Peacekeepers didn’t give a shit that he hunted---they bought enough of his game---but Reaping Day was different. It was the one day a year the Capitol remember District 12 existed, and every Peacekeeper in town who wanted a better posting was itching to show off.

Romelle, unsurprisingly, was already up and dressed for the Reaping. She’d plaited her hair into twin braids, tying them off with the set of pink ribbons Keith had managed to get from the Hob for her birthday last year. Her best dress was a white sundress dotted in tiny pink roses with a wide pink sash around her waist. Shay’s grandma had knitted her a soft blue jacket to protect her shoulders from the sun.

“You’re later than normal,” she commented, closing the door behind him.

Their wolf, who Romelle cheerfully called “Wolfie” despite Keith’s numerous protests, yawned and padded over towards Keith, sniffing at the game on his string.

“Sorry, I lost track of time.” He cut off a hunk of rabbit and handed it over, the young wolf tearing into it with abandon.

“I picked something out for you, and got some more hot water for your bath. Go wash up; you stink and you look like you haven’t bathed in a year.”

“Pushy.”

“There’s practically an inch-thick layer of grime on you,” Romelle retorted, scrunching her nose up in mock disgust. “Just because we live in a shack doesn’t mean we have to look like it.”

“Of course, can’t have the Capitol watching a bunch of dirty, starving kids hoping they don’t get Reaped.”

“You really should keep it down,” she warned. “There have already been three patrols thorough here this morning. Now go wash up before the water’s cold.”

“Has Shay stopped by yet?”

“No, but she’ll probably be here soon, so go!” Romelle, apparently fed up with not being listened to, decided to take matters into her own hands---literally, as she began to shove him towards the washroom.

“Alright, alright!”

Despite his instance of the contrary, Keith winced as he took in the sight of the water once he was done. He couldn’t even see the bottom of the tub for all the crap he’d rubbed off his skin. The running water was one of the few things he missed about living in the Victor’s Village, but it wasn’t like he could’ve spent his entire life there, anyway.

Unsurprising, Romelle had decided on the red dress shirt she’d modified for him from one of Dad’s old shirts. What _was_ surprising was what his sister had set next to it. He picked up the dagger, running a thumb over the rawhide wrapped around its hilt. He knew exactly what was under those wrappings. He pulled it out a bit from its sheath, catching his reflection in the meticulously polished metal.

_“Dad? Where’s Mom?”_

He snapped the dagger firmly back in place and took a deep breath.

 

“Good morning,” Shay greeted from the table as Keith made his way back into the main room.

Shay Balmera had been Keith’s friend for years; they’d practically grown up together. Which was why it had been a massive disappointment when Keith presented as an omega when he was thirteen; prior to that, everyone thought he and Shay would end up together. Not that it really mattered to either of them; Keith wasn’t interested in girls and Shay thought of him more as a brother than a potential husband.

“Morning. I’ve got a couple of squirrels and a rabbit for your family,” Keith said. “You want to take it now or should I stop by later?”

“We should take it now,” Shay replied, just a bit too quickly. “You know. Just in case.”

“Shay, it’s our last year. Your name’s only in there eight times,” he pointed out, grabbing his string out of the designated cabinet in order to separate it. “We’ll be fine.”

“I had a dream last night,” she said, eyes cast to the ground as she worried a swatch of her dress. “It was us. Both of us.”

Romelle dropped the pitcher, the metal clanging harshly against the floor. Shay’s dreams…well, Keith wouldn’t go so far as to call them prophetic, but they usually came true more often than not. Hopefully this wouldn’t be one of those times.

“It was just a nightmare,” Keith promised, grabbing a rag in order to clean up the spilled water. “Not all of your dreams come true, remember?”

But most did. The she had the night before the explosion did. He could still hear the echos of Shay’s screaming as their dads went off to work.

“But what if this one does?”

“Don’t think like that,” he ordered, putting the pitcher back on the table and lobbing the soaking wet rag into the laundry basket. “We’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna go to the square, stand in line while they play that stupid propaganda film, they’re gonna wind up picking whoever bought the most tesserae this year, and then we’re gonna go home.”

“I hope you’re right, Keith,” Shay replied.

“You’d better be,” Romelle threatened, her words less biting thanks to the tears pooling in her eyes. She practically tackled him, hugging him as tightly as she could. “I can’t loose my brother _and_ my best friend on the same day.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” he promised, hugging her back. “You’ll see. We’re gonna be fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment or leave kudos if you enjoyed this! I plan to update daily throughout November, due to NaNoWriMo.


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